


anonymous filth

by bespectacledwallflower



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Human/Vampire Relationship, Massage, Morning Sex, Multi, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-11-29 01:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18216176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespectacledwallflower/pseuds/bespectacledwallflower
Summary: i write smut and post it to a sideblog sometimes; these are the posts i feel proud of





	1. feed you

you take good care of me, even in the peak of your hunger pangs. i'm never scared when you need to feed because i know you're paying attention and will rush to help me at the drop of a hat--but i do sometimes push myself too close to the edge, just to see how far i can fall before you catch me.  
i'm chopping vegetables when you sidle up behind me at the counter, pull my hair aside, and press a kiss to my hairline at the nape of my neck to ask me if i can 'help' you tonight. i put down the knife and turn around to face you when i decide dinner can wait for a while, because "i know how grumpy you get when you're hungry." you take offense, but i say it pulling myself snug to your pelvis by your jeans pockets so you can't get too mad. it works, because you tip down to kiss me insistently, pushing me back against the cabinets with the urgency of it. you must have been waiting very patiently to catch me at a good time.  
i lay the stained towels down. we did try a tarp once, but the crinkling plastic coldness ruined the mood, and blood is impossible to get out of a mattress.  
i wonder what it's like to be you as you lay me down and straddle my thighs. pleasure in sex and eating are inexorably linked to where they become the same pleasure, and as you take life from me you give me pleasure in return--not an equivalent exchange at first glance, but that you love me and i feed you and that this keeps us alive is the crux of the tenuous balance we generate. it's a good thing, then, that i don't fear death within your arms; your pleasure is heightened by risk and mine sharpened by pain.  
"are you alright?" you brush my hair back from my face with utmost care. "you're looking at me strangely."  
i wear a disaffected smile. "just thinking about how you fuck where you eat."  
i'm being insolent and i wonder if you'll punish me for it. you drop your voice near my ear to make me squirm and say, "all the better to taste all of you, my love." i whine in protest, but you have me how you want me, tensed in anticipation for you, and you pin my wrists above my head while i'm off-guard. my face is still and wide and open, and you make me wait for you to move. before you do, you ask me gently one last time, "you aren't afraid?"  
"no. no, i want this," i say, and i do, so badly.  
in teasing me, you tease yourself, waving the meal under your nose for ages before eating it. i was surprised by this being your habit the first time you tasted me rather than tearing into me all at once as i do when i eat, and you made a joke about being a 'slow eater.' but edging seems to heighten your release as much as mine. still holding my wrists, you trace a delicate line down my face with your cool mouth: my hairline, my forehead, the space between my brows, the tip of my nose, softly and briefly on my lips, my chin. you move down to graze the pulse beating within my throat and you pause here, and i wonder if you're hungry enough to give in then and there. but you keep moving to my clavicle, which catches the tip of your nose. i try to move my hands to take off my shirt, but you press them harder into the pillow with a wicked glint in your eye.  
"be patient. don't touch."  
my heart jumps into double-time. you work the buttons open one-handed, propped up by the hand restraining mine, and trace a cold finger down the thin line of exposed skin you leave, watching my face move as i feel you wind a trail from my throat to my abdomen. i shiver and sigh bodily beneath you--i'm horribly ticklish and you love taking advantage of it to render me weak and needy, and it always works. you bend over me to bestow a reverent kiss to my breastbone, directly over my heart, as if to thank it for giving of itself to you.  
at last you let go of my wrists and run your hands up underneath the back of my shirt to bring me up and pull my arms from the sleeves. as soon as i'm untangled, i pull your shirt over your head with haste and throw my clumsy mouth open on yours, and this time you don't hold me back. i nest my fingers in the short hair beneath the cradle of your skull and kiss you like i'm dying, all hot breath and missing your mouth by inches at times. you resist my frantic pace and break away from me to grab my chin and hold me still, beginning again with a slower and deeper kiss that warms me. the tension you built in my muscles starts to melt, and i let you ease me back down below you. you drift back to the blue artery that gave you pause, as if you want to give me a hickey, and i brace myself.  
the point of puncture always feels like it comes as a surprise despite all the buildup. i cry out every time. it does feel like two needles sticking me at once, but beyond that, it's a wave of pleasant weariness. i'm not falling asleep--i'm awake within my body as i feel it letting go to perfect surrender. when you feed, the old dormant blood in your veins temporarily flows again. the hands at my waist grow warm with my own life, and my own hands at your shoulders go cold and i drop them when they grow too heavy to keep there.  
i'm starting to feel my arms fall asleep, and a strange false heat presses in around my forehead. when i half-open my eyes, the dim-lit bedroom is blurry and slurred. i think this time i might actually faint and i feel myself mumbling something along those lines, and you immediately extract yourself to look at me, a bit of my own blood spilled at the corner of your mouth.  
"shit, you're pale--don't move," you say, leaping up and swiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. i don't listen and try to sit up, but i immediately lose control and fall, hitting the pillow heavy. you spit a string of curses interspersed with my name and press a section of the towel over the wound. you pick up my heavy hand and hold it over the towel. "just hold it here like this. don't. move."  
you come back with a box of bandages, a damp rag, and a bag of frozen peas fished from the freezer. i'm still not allowed to move and you manipulate my limbs for me, lifting my head to put the frozen peas on the back of my neck and pulling up my knees to elevate them. i'm bleeding through the towel and you gingerly pull my sticky red hand from the wound and onto your lap. the rag is cool on my neck.  
"sorry," i blurt out. my voice comes thick. "i should've told you i hadn't eaten much today."  
"no, it's alright."  
"but did you get enough?"  
you cover the wound with two neat bandages. the pressure of your fingers is comforting, and as i feel myself coming back from the edge, i just want you to lay with me for a while. i reach my bloody hand up towards your face to run my fingers along your jaw and leave a crimson streak. you look back at me and smile. i bring my fingers to your lips and you take them into your mouth, closing your eyes as you get the last drops of me. when you bend to kiss me i taste my own metallic acridity.  
you run your fingertips over my wispy baby hairs and study my expression. "i'll finish dinner."  
i shake my head. "no, you don't have to do that, i can finish it myself in a minute."  
"i still remember how to cook," you chide me softly. "you'll recover once you eat something. you feed me, i feed you. i owe you that much."  
"you don't owe me anything." i take your hand from my face and kiss your knuckles. "but you can preheat the oven for me. i forgot to do that beforehand."


	2. crack my back

i hurt all the time now, nothing serious, just random aches that flare up and fade. sometimes my back, shoulders, feet, neck, but always at least one. you are happy to set me right again, and i always return the favor for your pains. when i can't turn my head for a stiff neck, you turn it slowly back with one hand at my chin and the other at the rear curve of my skull until it cracks back to life. i always moan genuinely with relief, much more than i usually allow myself. "do that again, _please_ ," i say, and you laugh at my uncharacteristic wantonness.

"ok, other side, just relax," you say, but i already have, my head fully loose in your hands. the beautiful creaking crack sends me into throes of wonder.  
i slur, "i love you so much. more than anything in the world."  
"why aren't you like this when i'm fucking you?" you sound almost bitter.  
"this is sexier than sex. this is a whole nother level."  
you ease your hands from my head and i hold myself upright again. you plant a kiss to the nape of my neck, between the vertebrae you just snapped into place. "all better."  
you move to walk away, but i catch your wrist and pull you back. "are you actually sad that i'm not...more..." i can't find the word. "demonstrative? because i can try to be."  
you don't say anything for a moment, just stand there as i run my thumb over the veins on your wrist.  
"positive affirmation is important in sexual relationships," i say in my best robot voice, a direct quote from a manual. you break out a grin.  
"i know it doesn't come naturally to you."  
"i can try. i'll just pretend you're popping my neck and it'll be easy. it is kind of a turn on when you fix me."  
you raise your eyebrows slightly. "you never told me that. but i guess i should've figured."  
my hand is still holding onto your wrist, but my other hand reaches up to your waist to try and pull you down to me. it finds the back pocket of your jeans.  
"come on, try me."  
you obey my tug and kneel to scoop me up into your arms by my knees so i'm straddling your waist. i'm caught by surprise and i laugh, but your hand at my back pulls me into your mouth. i wrap my arms tight around your shoulders and you kiss me fiercely--you were more ready for this than i realized. i guess my responses turned you on, too. you press me against a wall, my legs still in midair against you. i'm still half in shock.  
"oh my god, i didn't know you could do this."  
"don't act so surprised," you say in almost a snarl as you lunge for my neck like a vampire. i shiver and press tighter against your pelvis.  
i don't usually moan when you touch me. i sigh a lot, even loudly with its depth, but i feel awkward making noises. but now that i knew you liked what you heard, i let myself vocalize. you brush your teeth on my neck and i gasp with surprise. maybe you _are_ a vampire. i find myself thinking about when i fainted after donating blood for the first time and remembering the ringing in my ears, the strange warmth in my extremeties and the fuzziness at the edges of my vision. my whole body felt full of static. if you did suck my blood, held like this, you wouldn't let me drop. you move your arms down from my back to my ass, digging your fingers in under my skirt. you're practically inside me even through your jeans.   
i'm starting to wonder how we're going to pull this insane stunt off. i can't let go of your shoulders for my own fear of falling, but we manage to figure it out by slowing down. i press my thighs against your sides to hold myself up and hang on tight to your shoulders. you unzip and pull my underwear to the side with one hand and the other holding tight onto me. both of us are breathing hard from want of each other and bewilderment at what we're attempting.  
"you're crazy."  
"that's not a positive affirmation."  
"sure it is."  
you slide into me very slowly, lowering me onto you, and i cry out softly all the while. i want to look in your eyes and tell you that dropping me might kill us both, but you know that before I do and push me harder into the wall to squash my fears. so instead i look in your eyes and say, "i love you so goddamn much." i definitely still sound pretty scared when i say it.  
you hold me with one hand and press my pelvis against the wall with the other. thank god, you fuck me slowly. i'm sure i'll leave two wicked twin bruises in the shape of my hands on both your shoulders, but i know you'll wear them with pride, just as i'll wear the bruise you're kneading into my hip. i kiss you deep as you push into me, but you can't stay connected to my mouth when you come, voicing a shudder and pressing your face into my neck.   
we stand panting like that for a moment until you can slide carefully out of me. we leave a damning mess on the floor, streaked down the wall.

"have you been wanting to do this?"  
"for ages."  
"how did you know it would work?"  
"i didn't."

"we're not fucking anymore, so i'm allowed to tell you that was insane and i was terrified i would snap your dick in half."  
"i was scared too but i was trying not to think about that."  
"what stopped you?"  
"you. you're so goddamn noisy when you're scared."  
"fuck off!"  
"but did you like it?"  
"hell yeah i did--but let's agree to never try that again."


	3. warm you up

you left early this winter morning for an errand, the sun barely coming up over the snowy ground and giving it that soft blue glow through thin clouds. i was sleeping so deeply i didn't feel you rise or hear you dress, and i fade into wakefulness while you're out. i'm still half-asleep in bed when you burst back in, breathing hard as you step out of your wet boots. i hear you trudge up the stairs and i smile because i know what comes next.  
"it's so cold!" you say, and i hear your grin before i sit up and see it.  
"i bet," i say, my voice rough with the first words i've spoken all day.  
you sit on the end of the bed and press a kiss on my cheek. i recoil with a laugh.  
"your face is freezing! your poor nose!" you should have worn a scarf over your face. it feels like you'd been walking for this errand. picking up the mail? grabbing firewood from a neighbor? maybe it was just to breathe in the air as crisp as a new apple, or to do this to me.  
you moan dramatically, "you're so waaaaarmmmm," and bury your frigid face in the crook of my neck. i shriek but hold you fast there, wrap my arms around the rest of you and pull myself from the covers and onto your thighs. your hands are cold too, and they dig into the tangled hair at my scalp. you kiss my neck with chapped winter lips and i melt into your lap, winding my legs tight around your torso.  
you withdraw and i get a good look at you, long lashes and mottled red cheeks that i cup in my bed-warm hands. your face stills under my touch. i kiss the long tip of your nose, my favorite part of your face, with nearsighted precision. i like the contrast of my warm thighs and your cool hips, how our pointed centers meet in twain. your fingers cup my head as gently as a baby's. i like how our arms press together when i kiss your mouth.  
we start to rock. you pull your hands, still cold, from my hair and reach up the back of my shirt to graze the stripe of my spine. i shiver and wrap myself around your neck, struck by the sweet, wet smell of your thick hair. you must have washed it this morning and risked it freezing going out in the cold. my lips sigh on the soft skin behind your ear and before your hairline.  
you slowly lie back on the mattress and i untangle my legs so i am up on my hands over you, stomachs touching. you pull at the hem of my shirt and i let you pull it over my head to toss it aside. you take one of my hanging breasts into your mouth, and when i moan and drop to my elbows you don't stop. my hair drops over my face when i hang my head and i look at yours spread out behind you on the quilt in a halo. a thought sprouts in the back of my head. you are the saint of something, but i'm not sure what. i slide down your body, my knees hooking the edge of the mattress. through your sweater i kiss between the hollow of your breasts and over your bellybutton. my bare feet meet the carpet and i get on my knees at the edge of the bed and your closed legs: supplication.  
you push up on your elbows and look at me, probably looking frightened like i always do with my fingers frozen at the button of your jeans, and you smile.  
"if you don't want to--"  
"no, i do." i smile back. i'm just always nervous about disappointing you. i know i'm good for touching, but i feel unskilled in touching you. with newfound resolve i unbutton your jeans and you help me slide them off.  
you're warm here. i kiss you slowly through the cotton first and feel sweat on the tip of my nose. you lie back down again when i pull down the waistband, hook myself under your thighs for support. you taste salty and sour, and the lingering image of Saint You makes me think of the wine-soaked sponge at quaking lips, suspended above the world. amazingly, you arch at my tongue, and i feel your hands press deep into the mattress. when i pull back to pull your briefs off of your legs i look up at you, already looking at me, and i kiss along your thigh. slowly, i push back the hood. you inhale sharp and deep, and i close my eyes.   
you rock upright with a fluttering moan and grab me by the hair, pulling me into you as your legs jump. i hang on tight. when you loosen your grip on my devout head, i finally retreat.  
"god," you sigh.   
i wipe my mouth and grin. it's never gone that well before. i should imagine you holy more often.  
"not bad for seven in the morning." you bring me back up onto your lap, and i shiver happily at the friction of your sweater on my bare skin.  
"it's really that early?" we did go to sleep earlier than usual last night.  
"well, that's when i came back. it's a bit later now." you lay back again and i shuffle to lay my head on your chest, one leg hooked around one of yours. your taste lingered in my mouth on the back of my tongue.  
"i was imagining you as a saint," i say before i can stop myself.  
you laugh. "really? the saint of what?"  
"i don't know. you just looked like one." i readjust so my chin rests on your chest and i can look at you. the sun has come up fully now, sending a white light through our window that makes your long lashes look silver.  
i crawl off of you to brush my teeth and dress, but you halt me before i can leave the bedroom.  
"wait. come back here."   
i can't quite read your expression, but i obey and stand at the edge of the bed. "what is it?"  
"i know what i'm the saint of now."  
"oh?"  
you take my hand and guide me back into your lap, one arm slung under my legs and another under my shoulders. "i'm the patron saint of mutual orgasms."  
i burst out laughing. you ignore me and kiss my neck again, hungrily this time, and i cry out softly when i feel a brush of your teeth at my skin. you trace your way back to my breasts and linger there, and i hang onto the nape of your neck, aware of the shorter wisps of hair back there that always fall out of your ponytail. waves of hot and cold flush over my skin, the cool house at odds with my rushing blood.  
you let go of my legs and slide a hand down my thigh to move my legs apart, slide a hand down my shorts and through the hair growing there to find me, still attached to my breast. i'm comfortably suspended in your arms, pleased by the tight grip of your fingers at my shoulder and your deft work. my breath picks up. you pull your head back and the pressure of my hand at your nape tightens. you look placid and triumphant. i wonder how i look to you.  
you coax a great sigh out of me, and i melt backwards. i feel the redness on my cheeks and the tips of my ears, heated to boiling. i open my eyes, not aware of when i had closed them. i must have imagined your face so well it felt real.  
you scoop my legs up with your arm again and stand up. cradled like a child in your arms which never waver, you carry me out the door and into the bathroom to set me gently down on the mat. but i'm not ready to let go of you yet. i pull you into a tight embrace and you squeeze back just as hard. when we let go it's as if all of the negative energy fled my muscles, left only with the pleasing weariness of sex.  
wordlessly, you pull off your sweater and give me a nod. i smile and hold my arms up for you to pull it over my head. it's my favorite sweater, something like a lobster fisherman would wear and a forest green color.  
you pull back the shower curtain and bend over to peel off your thick socks. "can't believe you're making me shower twice in one morning," you say with mock resentment, half your mouth quirked into a cocky smirk.  
i hum and grab my toothbrush. "i think it was worth it."  
"damn. you're right," you say, turning on the water. i squeeze some toothpaste on the bristles and watch you close the curtain, wondering whether or not i should join you.


	4. tempo

you’ve been away for a while and i thought i was doing ok without you around. but as soon as you walk in the door, i realize how much i did miss you. wordlessly, you sweep me up into a tight hug, and i slip my arms under your open jacket. we stand in the door like that for a long time, not talking or moving, and you press a kiss hard to my cheek. i giggle at your scratchy face.

you murmur, “i missed you so much.”

i hope you can feel my smile cheek to cheek. “i missed you, too.”

after living together for a while, we had forgotten how to have the hours-long conversations we had before we got together, but tonight something shifts, and we talk until we’re hoarse. the sky darkens outside and we continue sinking into opposite sides of the couch with our feet up between us. when we use up all our words, you pick up my sore sock feet and pull them into your lap to rub them, unprompted, and i can’t believe how much i love you then. i don’t say it out loud, but i smile big and soppy enough that you must know. you look up at me and scrunch your nose a bit like a bemused question, and i can only answer with a contented sigh when you hit the right spot. you switch to my other foot and i am glad you aren’t shy when you touch me, applying enough pressure for it to really count.

when you finish, you bring the top of my foot to your lips and kiss it, and i laugh, but you don’t drop my foot right away. something stops you there, and you trace the full length of my leg with your gaze, all the way up my thigh to my hipbone, visible above the waistband of my underwear and below the lifted hem of my shirt. i watch you watch me watching you.

you kiss my ankle, then my calf. the hinge of my knee bends to the pressure of your hand and you kiss it, too. you pull yourself between my legs to lay over me on my end of the couch, and you kiss me deep with my head laid back against the armrest. i thrust my fingers into your hair and you bring your hand up lightly under my back to arch it towards you, knowing that my muscles will pounce on your cue. our stomachs touch, and i bounce back from the shock in my quivering belly and break the kiss.

we’ve run out of words, but neither of us needed to say anything to start taking clothes off. i pull my shirt off and i need to feel your chest against my own so badly that i can’t wait for you to finish unbuttoning yours and i do it myself, drawing you to me so i can place your heart against mine. you kiss my neck like i hoped you would and i cleave us still tighter together, my hands pressed deep into your arched shoulders, your fingers into the spaces between my ribs.

i feel you start running down my body, mouth reaching my breast, hands reaching my underwear to pull them off. i shift my legs to help you untangle me, and that's what this feels like--though we are tangling ourselves around each other, you remind me that i am made up of many disparate parts that i confuse for each other, and by your touch i feel my strands untangling and arranging themselves like neat lines of sheet music. my head and heart and many little aches and twitches all play different notes and volumes, but when you make me come, i imagine my whole self playing the same pitch, finally in perfect alignment. when i feel you slide into me, i like to think that we make a trine chord, our notes touching each other in the score, but not discordantly. we drone like the beginning of a song, building to something grander. i compose our music in my head to the beat that you steadily thrust into me.

you collapse onto my chest, spent and sighing, and for the first time i realize how tired you are from your long journey back home. i feel a bit guilty for keeping you up so late, but you wouldn't have really come home until we'd done this. you haven't pulled out yet and may not til morning, but i hope we fall asleep like this, folded around each other. i close my eyes and stroke your hair. our breaths come at different tempos, but they fit together, and soon yours will slow and deepen to be closer to mine.


End file.
